Imperio
by 11inchpineanddragonheartstring
Summary: Two things JK did wrong. 1. Underpowered the brains of Death Eaters. 2. Allowed Harry to get away from the Dursleys unscathed. Harry never went to school. Never saw a human face except for the Dursleys. Never played, laughed, or smiled. Hermione was a mere target. Naive, scared, and innocent. And her mind an open target.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

"How is she?"

"The girl?"

"Yes."

There was a soft crinkling of parchment as a set of pages flipped.

"She's almost perfect."

"Qualities, Lucius. Qualities."

"No friends, her personality drives them away. Very studious and capable. Fairly high raw magical power."

"A mudblood?"

"A mudblood."

A quiet chuckle resonated through the large room.

"All the better. And what of the boy?"

"The old fool was tricked easily. All your compulsion charms worked. The boy has grown up and is ready for our purposes."

"Will he be easy to turn?"

"If the girl succeeds in her mission."

There was a pause, then the second voice spoke.

"Lucius, she leaves for King's Cross now. Do not be detected."

"Yes, my lord."

* * *

Hermione Granger was a witch.

Yes, a witch. That funny McGonagall woman had proved it. First she'd broken the primary theory of conservation of mass, then she'd broken the first laws of thermodynamics, then she'd created life.

Hermione hugged her textbooks to her protectively. She'd gotten them a few weeks ago at Diagon Alley – _Diagon Alley! – _and she already knew how to use several spells. She listed them off in her brain – Wingarium Leviosa. Check. Lumos. Check. Incendio. Incindeo. Check.

She'd find friends at Hogwarts, she knew. Hogwarts she would be happy, with friends, learning. Then when she'd learned everything she could learn, she would find her parents and her physicist grandfather and they'd bridge the gap between -

There was a '_pfft-pop'_ sound and a quick, harsh voice, a blinding flash of white light, and then nothing.

Nothingness.

* * *

Consciousness.

Slowly swimming world, whirling in existence.

The boy sat up in his bedroom. A puddle of blood was splattered onto his floor, leaving a bright red stain on the old, darker splotches that painted parts of the floor and wall.

Vernon had been really angry that time. When he got the letter addressed to "Harry James Potter, the Cupboard Underneath the Stairs".

No-one lived under the stairs, except for him. But his name wasn't Harry.

The name held some slight recognition. When he was very young, Harry had been a name of some sort, but he'd never heard it since. Boy. Freak. Waste of space. But mainly boy.

Now there were voices, arguing outside.

Boy was not very good at talking, but he was a good listener. So he listened.

_"Harry isn't here," _Vernon was saying again. _"He's out. Away."_

The other person, who sounded like an older man, was talking about Hogwarts. Boy almost smiled. Old people were stupid and senile. Maybe old person was confused, and didn't know what he was thinking about.

But no-one knew what Boy was thinking, either.

**Yeah, I know. Short chapter. This is just an introduction, I'll be posting Chapter 1 in a few hours.**


	2. Chapter 2

**DarkAngelAlice13: Thanks**

**Guest: Harry's going to be worse. Sorry.**

**So, hi all. I was really going to throw this idea aside, when I decided to check status and saw I'd gotten 2 reviews and a few hundred views. Seriously?**

**I was born in the Halo fanfiction universe, and they're a small bunch of tight knit, friendly community. I tried writing Star Wars, and after writing Halo, I was really depressed to find out that no-one wanted to listen to a lonely n00b trying to make a good story. I gave up on that, and just decided to write Harry Potter for fun. And I'm already getting so much input? Thanks! Keep the reviews going, it encourages me.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Introductions**

She was floating.

A dreamy, happy sensation was running through her, as she gathered her books and exited the car. Her parents were whispering to her softly.

Hermione felt herself shake her head and hug them.

_Such petty, foolish emotions._

For a second, Hermione almost snapped back to reality.

_What? _She asked curiously. Maybe when students went to Hogwarts, they had a friend in their minds. A magical friend in their minds. Hermione smiled at the thought.

_I am Lucius_, the friend said. _You will do as I say._

Hermione didn't care. Something twitching in the back of her mind furiously reminded her that she _should _care, but she didn't want to. It was too... _tiring_, Lucius finished for her.

_I am tired_, she thought. Warmth spread through her body.

_You are tired,_ he said. _Go to sleep. I will take care of you._

_I want to stay and see, _she complained. _I want to see and look._

_Alright,_ Lucius said benevolently, like a parent letting a child stay past her bedtime._ You can stay._

A voice reminded her of her parent's presence. "'Mione?"

A flare of annoyance surged in her as her Dad used her 'pet' name. Lucius talked to her. _Your parents are silly. Tell them that you should run through Platform 9 and 3/4s. _

"Daaaaaad," Hermione whined. Her father chuckled and ruffled her already bushy hair.

"It's OK," he smiled. "You just looked a bit lost in there."

Hermione smiled, and suddenly felt a warm glow running through her. "I'm not lost," she said airily. "I'm going to Hogwarts!"

Her father simply chuckled and ruffled her hair again, before turning to her mum.

"Coming, Emma?"

Mrs Granger looked around carefully and nodded.

Lucius quickly grabbed Hermione's hands and legs, made her grip onto her trolley and made her run. She felt herself be shoved through the stone wall, and out onto the other side.

The first thing Hermione saw as a green sign, _9 and 3/_4s. She was here, and she knew what to do. Lucius would help her.

She hugged her parents - Lucius made sure she did, she still loved her parents... didn't she? She asked Lucius. Lucius didn't say much.

Hermione stared at the train in front of her. _What should I do? _she asked Lucius.

_Get in the front. See who's there._

Hermione obeyed, swinging the door open and clambering in. Quickly, she took a seat in an empty compartment.

_I think you should say goodbye to your parents. That's a good idea._

Hermione stuck her head out and waved to her parents, who waved back. The train began to move slowly.

Lucius seemed to shudder inside her.

_What's the matter?_

_Nothing_, he replied slowly. _Go see if you can't find us some friends._

Hermione's smiled as she bounced out of her seat and scampered down the halls.

* * *

He was alone in the train.

The redheaded family - Boy didn't know that people could have red hair - had seen him and talked about Harry Potter, but Boy wasn't Harry. He was Boy.

He was confused. Magic, wands, whatever. The giant man who called him Harry had gotten him a wand, money, books, and robes. He was wearing them now - doing things early seemed to be proper.

There was a slight knock on the door, and a chubby, red faced boy entered, looking slightly flustered.

"Neville," he gasped. "Neville Longbottom. I'm looking for a toad..."

He petered of when he noticed Boy was staring at him blankly. He muttered a quick apology and moved off.

Not two minutes later, a girl entered, frowned at him, and began eyeing him coldly.

"Harry Potter."

Boy stared at her. "No."

"Yes. Do you have the scar?"

Boy frowned at her again.

"Yes. I am not going to show it to you."

The girl's face turned into a half sneer. "Why," she said slowly and clearly, "would I like to see your repulsive disfigurement left by a psychotic maniac so that I would fall down at your feet and begin kissing your toes?"

Boy stared back at her, slightly amused.

"It is good to see that you're not one of the Harry Potter groupies. Are you searching for a compartment to sit in?"

Hermione frowned. The _nerve_ of that boy! First he insisted that he was _not_ Harry Potter - some kind of rude spit-in-your-face manner of insulting other people's knowledge. How _dare _he challenge her well researched facts!

_Good_, Lucius whispered. _The Potter boy is an arrogant, insecure child. He is stupid. Think on it - Hermione Granger, best witch of her age, beats the Boy-Who-Lived. Does it not have a ring to it?_

Hermione frowned. Being recognized for her ability was one thing, but being a pompous pri-

_No, no, no, _Lucius reassured her. _Imagine what your parents will think! People will love you. You will have friends, friends who are like you and who like you. Don't you want that?_

Hermione froze. Memories of fleeing through the playground, large boys and girls shoving her to the ground and shredding her schoolbooks flooded her mind.

_Good friends. Friends. Like the storytale ones. _

Hermione shook herself. Yes, she had to have friends.

"No," she said curtly and coldly. "I would not contaminate myself with such as _you_."

With that she turned tail and marched out of the carriage.

* * *

_Why was I so mean to Har... to the Potter boy? _Hermione's bustling mind tried to sort itself out as she scrambled through the train. Lucius had told her that the Longbottom boy was of an Ancient and Noble house, and it was good to make strong alliances... or friendships. _Friendships._ The word made Hermione smile.

_He is a troublemaker_, Lucius told her. _You saw how he looked at you._ _He may be a hero, but you are above his level. Prove it._

Hermione frowned. _I... I guess__, _she thought reluctantly.

_Now,_ Lucius went on. _Look ahead. Hogwarts. Sorting. Which house would you prefer to be in?_

Hermione considered for a second. _Isn't Ravenclaw considered the brains?_

Mentally, Lucius seemed to shrug. _Stereotypically. But the hat does not go by what your abilities are. It goes for what your _values_ are. Do you pride yourself on knowledge as a means to the end?_

She thought for a moment. _Like, what do I hold dearest to me?_

_Yes._

_Then, I guess, knowledge isn't the most important thing. Loyalty. Honesty. Friendship, bravery... Love._

_Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, _Lucius said in her mind. _Hufflepuff, maybe. You are a hard worker, aren't you? You'd be good in Hufflepuff?_

Hermione considered for a moment. _I don't really mind, I guess, _she thought. _Wherever the hat put's me, I'll be best._

* * *

"My lord."

"Lucius. How goes your... mission."

"Her mind is simple. Organized, tidy. But full of fissures, ready to be exploited."

"I sense a 'but', Lucius."

"You have discerned correctly, my lord. The girl has... has a strong moral upstanding."

"Will she be easy to twist?"

"I have my doubts. She has fully embraced me, but is still curious about me. If I am not forthcoming, she may question a professor."

"Then force her not to."

"My lord... would it be wise to apply such strong pressure on her mind? It may completely turn her against us, and guarantee a difficult road. For one who has not practised Occlumency, she is... strong."

"Try and guide her in the right path. But you _cannot _lose her. She is instrumental in my plans for the Potter boy."

"Yes, my lord."

* * *

**Thanks for reading, and if you could drop a review (and if it's like, 'great chapter', don't bother. Review meaningfully.**

**Some of you may ask why Lucius is with Voldemort, not Pettigrew or Quirrel. Don't worry, that will be explained. Although in Canon Lucius didn't do anything for Voldemort till GOF (the diary incident was for selfish purposes) THIS IS FANFICTION. GET OVER IT.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"HARRY POTTER!"

McGonagall's cry echoed through the great hall, and immediately, whispers broke out through the hall. Except for one brunette first-year staring impassively from the Gryffindor table.

Harry, who had by now accepted the alias and apparent name, locked eyes with the elderly professor and stepped up to the stool, and shoved it on his head without ceremony.

_Oh... Merlin. _

Harry sat coolly under the sorting hat, as memories scrambled through his unprotected mind. Again. And again.

A memory brought to surface - fresh blood being spattered against a wall, Vernon beating him over and over again...

_Albus told me about this,_ the hat said slowly, _but I didn't realize it was this bad..._

For the first time, Harry showed some reaction. Shock ran through his features as he deftly plucked off the hat and threw it onto the ground. A collective murmur rose up around the tables.

Dumbledore stared. Lucius smiled, inside Hermione's head. _See, Hermione. He is nothing but a brat and an arrogant attention seeker._

McGonagall raised a hand against the murmurs and quickly strode towards Harry.

"Mr. Potter, please replace the sorting hat immediately to continue the sorting."

Harry shook his head. A small, almost imperceptible movement, yet the whole school caught it.

"Mr. Potter..." McGonagall's voice trailed off.

Harry stared each teacher in the face, feeling pricks in the back of his head.

_No. I will keep them safe. _His mind. The only thing he could protect from the Dursleys, and he was not going to surrender it to some... enchanted, dusty old hat.

Imperceptibly, Snape at the professor's table gave the slightest flinch of shock. Dumbledore, however, reacted differently.

"Minerva." The aging professor stood, and lifted a hand. McGonagall, surprised, glanced around, and backed away, replacing the sorting hat on it's stool.

The headmaster looked... A sort of hungry stare- into Harry's eyes. Harry starred back.

Then the headmaster began talking.

_Sorting... I haven't worked this hard since young Riddle came through fifty years ago... Oh, let's see, no... Hufflepuff? Definitely not... Ravenclaw... you have potential, Harry, but... no. Slytherin? Or Gryffindor? _

Harry shuddered. The man? In his mind?

_Memories. The mind. The only thing safe from Vernon and Dudley._

_I WILL NOT GIVE THEM UP!_

The presence remained continuing to blunder around for memories. But it seemed lost, confused.

_So,_ Harry thought. _There is a lack of character for you to judge. How... obvious. So you _

A ripple of surprise seemed to wash over the man, as another memory resurfaced. Blood splattering across the floor. Vernon's roaring, red face. Harry's pained, apathetic face, as he staggered along the ground.

_You have patience. Wisdom..._

_DO NOT SORT ME!_ Harry screamed

_My best guess would be..._

"Slytherin."

Instead of the hat's normal jovial shout, the headmaster's quiet voice echoed through the hall.

Snape shot a frowning glance at Dumbledore, but the rest of the professors simply looked shocked. The students began whispering.

There was a quiet, hesitant, clap from the blonde... Malfoy. Draco. The Slytherin table began applauding softly, but the rest of the student body sat in shocked silence.

Harry threw a short glare at Dumbledore, glanced at the Draco boy, then began walking towards the table.

* * *

"Albus. Was that what I thought you were doing?"

They were in one of Hogwart's more private rooms, exclusive only to teachers. the long table, usually for Hogwarts staff meetings, held only Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore. Dumbledore had assembled them specifically after the sorting, and sat them down to a small meal, for 'business should never get in the way of amiability.' However, amiability was the least thing on McGonagall and Snape's mind, and the light snack and forced conversation had done nothing to diffuse the situation.

Minerva had been the first to break the ice.

Dumbledore lightly fiddled with his goblet, turning it to and fro in his fingers.

"The boy's mind is... different."

McGonagall frowned at Dumbledore.

"A Potter. In Slytherin. Sorted by the Headmaster's Legilimency. There will be repercussions, Albus."

Snape lay down his fork. "The question is, Minerva," he said dully, "not whether this incident will be reported - seeing as none of the students would understand _how _you sorted the Potter boy - but why the his mind is like it is, and why _he _was sorted into _my_ house.

Dumbledore frowned.

"Your personal feud with James Potter - regrettable that it was - should not be brought into context."

Snape shrugged. "I was not referring to that."

"What I meant to ask," McGonagall said severely, "is why was it _necessary _in the first place for the sorting to be done in such manner in the _first _place."

Snape shrugged again. "September 1971."

The date flashed into context in McGonagall's mind.

"1971... The first years of -"

"James Potter," Snape said slowly. "Lily... Evans."

"You will _not _hold the boy comparable to his parents, Severus," McGonagall said severely. James Potter's sorting had been a _nightmare. _

A slight smile spread across Dumbledore's face as he recalled the sorting. McGonagall threw a glare at him.

"James, yes." Dumbledore smiled. "It was an... interesting sorting. Especially the confetti and the singing."

Snape scowled and slumped lower in his chair. "But what of the boy?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes..." he whispered, the beginnings of anger beginning to smoulder in his eyes. "He is not an attention-seeker like James. He understood what I was doing to him, tried to push me out..."

There was a _crash_ as Snape's chair collapsed to the floor. McGonagall clutched the table. _  
_

"Occlumency! At that age!" McGonagall stuttered. Snape made an incoherent gakking noise from under the table.

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore resorted Snape to his seat, like a naughty student being forced to obey the rules.

"No," he said. "Not Occlumency. At that age."

"Then," Snape growled, flicking his robe back into place behind him, "What?"

Dumbledore's face was grave.

"I mean," he said slowly, "The boy's mind is... organized. Almost spare."

Snape frowned. "Children's minds are not tidy. They are like breeding grounds for emotion and -"

"This boy is not like that."

McGonagall frowned. "But... how? Could a boy be trained... to hold his emotions in like... a master Occlumens?"

Dumbledore slumped in his chair. "Not... trained. He has been... _conditioned._"

Snape looked in surprise at Dumbledore, but McGonagall sat, frowning into her plate. "Conditioned..."

Suddenly she jerked her head up in shock and horror. "The Dursleys... they didn't..."

Dumbledore nodded slowly and sadly. "The boy possesses no emotion at all."

* * *

**To all the people who faithfully followed me for the last few months, huge apology and thanks. I hope to pick up momentum from here again and get updating.**

**Apologies,**

**11inchpineandragonheartstring**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

They were afraid of him.

They were afraid of _him._

Harry took another glance around his dorm, and wormed his small form more deeply into his bedcovers. His stomach was full, a strange feeling that he liked and disliked at the same time. It was warm in his bed, but the constant nagging feeling of... paranoia? Fear?

Something was wrong.

Harry glanced around the room again, quickly reaffirming the contents of each large bed. Draco Malfoy. Vincent Crabbe. Gregory Goyle. Predictably with Draco in the middle. Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott were on the left of Harry's bed.

He turned around on his side again, and tried to relax.

Nothing happened.

He turned over again.

And again.

Again.

* * *

The girl was staring at him.

Tracey Davis.

She was short, had a rather light brunette hair. Reasonably attractive.

She was staring at him.

Harry took another bite of his breakfast and stared back.

Harry had only gone to school for 1 term before the Dursleys had withdrawn him again, but Harry knew how to keep others away from him. Make them squirm.

Tracey was squirming.

Finally she said quietly, "We all heard you last night, Harry."

Then she dropped her eyes and didn't look at him again.

* * *

"Detention, Mr. Potter."

Harry's head snapped up again, after almost dozing off in the middle of Transfiguration.

"Laziness is intolerable," McGonagall warned, as she flicked a wand at him. His book flipped open and spun several times before it landed on the right page.

Harry noticed that the rest of the Slytherins were giving him scared or concerned looks.

* * *

Harry through off his covers.

He could _not_ sleep.

Crawling out of his bed, he grabbed his wand and exited his bed.

Harry walked out of the dorms. There were the dying remains of a fire, burning slowly. Harry pointed his wand at it.

_Incendio_.

**I**He had only briefly gone through his textbook and memorized the spells. This one had had put much practice into, but could never truly cast it out of Hogwarts.

Nothing happened.

Harry concentrated harder.

"Incendio," he repeated quietly, and flicked his wand more vigorously.

A small, uncontrolled burst of flame, the equivalent to several candles, flicked out and dissipated quickly. The effort left him almost panting, as if he had just completed a hard physical task.

Comforted by the small warmth, he crawled into a corner of the common room, behind a bookcase and tried to sleep.

He could relax now, but is body refused to drop off.

So he stayed up.

* * *

Hermione could _not _tolerate it.

That _lazy_ Potter.

Of course, Lucius had helped her. Lucius always helped her.

Snape had seen to that the most obnoxious of his students to go with the most lazy. That _ignorant bully_ of a teacher thought he knew better than her. Thought that he should pair her to what his prejudiced mind believed.

Potter had been half asleep and haphazardly slashed through the wubblegrubber roots and dumped them into the potion before Hermione or Lucius could stop him. Fortunately, Lucius had known what to do to stop a cataclysmic explosion, and expertly instructed her to add a precise amount of counter-reagent (it was just like chemistry). Unfortunately, Snape had seen it and took the opportunity to dock 10 points for apprehending an outbreak of severe boils all over Potter's forearms, as it would have 'taught him a lesson useful for future potion-making'.

Potter did not care.

In fact, he didn't even thank her.

Maybe there was some substance to what the Weasley boy said about Slytherin house.

* * *

Harry hated debts.

They would want something back, and at an inopportune time - something, a commitment, to pay back for the debt.

So, in order to pay Hermione for 'apprehending an outbreak of severe boils all over Potter's forearms', he would have to save her from the troll that had broken into Hogwarts.

_Fire or acid_.

It was fairly simple.

A troll of that intelligence was so occupied with Hermione cowering in a corner that it didn't notice when Harry jumped on it's back, shoved a wand up its nose, and cast _Incendio._

It did notice, however, when an unbelievably fast spell-chain of purple, white, blue, and a indescribably coloured flash of light smashed into the troll, leaving a smoking crater in the floor and blowing the troll into nothingness, as well as half the stalls.

Harry, who was riding the back of the troll, was smashed off the troll after the second spell, bounced off the back wall of the bathroom, and landed on the ground, unconscious.

Lucius took the opportunity of Hermione's shock to quickly erase the memory of her casting the spells and plant a few flashes of false memory in her mind to replace it.

* * *

Dumbledore was more confused than ever.

Both his and Snape's reports agreed - there was little malicious intent in the boy's mind. But how did that match with Ms. Granger's recount?

After 20 minutes of thinking, he had gotten no-where, so after swiftly extracting the memory and dumping it into the pensive, he replayed Hermione's account.

She had said... hiding in the girls bathroom... Harry entering... and several flashes of blurred memory, panic, being shoved into a stall with Harry punching her and ripping at her robe with _Incendio, _then a flash of what appeared to be accidental magic.

Dumbledore retreated out of the memory and examined Harry's wand, on the table. A quick _Priori __Incantem_ told him nothing, only the Incendio that had Hermione had told him of.

Hermione's account seemed to show some sort of... sexual assault? From a 11 year old boy? Unlikely. And the accidental magic performed by Hermione, to blow a troll who had happened to be there into smithereens but throw Harry harmlessly into a wall?

Something was wrong, he decided, on Hermione's side. However, the report she had given was that that displayed _no _untruthfulness, and Dumbledore, at 111, was a excellent reader of truthfulness. Something in these accounts was out of line.

**Well, that's that chapter finished.**

**If anyone's picked it up, I'm sort of copying Araceil's style exposed in _Beyond the Pale._ (Read it, it's a nice fic. Sadly it never went anywhere).**

**Comments are appreciated. I'm wanting to know how you saw this, because when _you_ write something, _you_ are the worst person to proofread it.**

**EVER.**


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